There's Something Wrong with Harry
by Ivana-F
Summary: Harry is in love with Draco, while in search of a good beautifying shampoo; Ron is in love with his hair, while trying to find out if Hermione is a lesbian; Crabbe proposes to Goyle, and many other weird happenings.
1. Cheese and Beautifying Shampoo

Harry Potter stared up at Draco Malfoy, who sneered at him. "What's the matter, Potter, never seen an actual foot?"

Harry looked at Draco and smiled dumbly. "Of course I have! I'm looking at one right now!" He looked at Draco's foot eagerly, as if he was expecting it to talk to him.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked down at Harry, who was sitting on the floor of the broom closet. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry looked up at Draco again, who was sitting on a wooden chest. He looked down at the pale, delicate foot and poked it. He giggled madly, and poked it again. He giggled, and poked. Giggled and poked. "This is fun!" said Harry happily.

Draco sighed. "Come on, Potter! Rub my feet!" He wiggled his toes as Harry brushed his fingertip against them. "Potter! Stop it! That tickles!" Finally, Draco kicked Harry in the stomach.

Harry rubbed his stomach. "Oh, what'd you go and do that for?" Harry asked, looked at Draco sadly.

"If you don't get a move on, Potter, I'll do it again!" Draco threatened, anger flashing in his gray eyes.

Harry whined like a puppy dog and lifted Draco's left foot. He stared at it for a second, and then began to rub it.

"That's better, Potter, much better...ah," sighed Draco happily, leaning back on the wall. He smiled and closed his eyes.

Then he felt something sharp biting at his big toe. His eyelids fluttered open and he snapped upright, staring down at Potter, puzzled.

"Did you just bite me?" Draco questioned, confused.

Harry glanced up and nodded.

"Why in the heck did you just bite me?" Draco asked, staring down Harry.

Harry looked at Draco for a moment, dumfounded. Then he whispered, "Cheese."

Draco wrinkled his face up and pulled his foot away from Draco. "God, Potter, you're disgusting!" He started to put his sock on, but Harry had his mouth open. "What?"

"Cheese is good. Especially when you eat it in your bed at midnight. Or if you sit in a refrigerator," Harry told him. He pulled off his shoe, yanked off a crusty black sock, and exposed his left foot, which was big, hairy, and yellow. His toenails were really long, encrusted with white stuff, and the nails themselves were purple.

Draco stood up immediately, whipping his eyes away from that nasty sight. He strode gracefully over to a corner, away from the foot, which was now stinking up the room. Its odor lingered over to Draco, who stuffed his sock against his nose.

He heard slurping noises, and looked over at Harry, who was now sucking on his big toe. "Oh, Potter!" he squealed, turning to face to wall.

"Mmmm...yummy...m—m—m good!" cried Harry, now chewing on something.

"What are you eating?" Draco asked, not really wanting to know.

"Bunion," said Harry, licking his lips. "Good."

"Are you done yet?" asked Draco to the wall.

"Yeah, I got all the good stuff out!" said Harry, half happy and half disappointed. He ate all the good stuff. Now there's none left. He frowned as he pulled on his sock, which he inhaled before putting back on, and jammed his foot back into his shoe.

Draco took a can of Lysol out of a pocket in his robes. He sprayed the whole closet, before turning to Harry. He held the can out in front of him, and dowsed Harry in the disinfectant.

"If I didn't like you, Potter, I wouldn't be doing this," Draco stated, giving Harry a look. "Don't know why I like you, actually. You're completely dumb, and utterly disgusting when it comes to feet."

Harry beamed at Draco. "I love you, Draco!" He stood up suddenly, so suddenly he fell to the floor. Draco offered him his hand, and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry gave Draco a huge hug. Draco frowned. Harry still smelled like feet. 

* * *

After Harry and Draco said their good-byes, Harry went skipping along to the Gryffindor Tower. Some people stared as Harry went by, with his arms folded and hands at the armpits, skipping along merrily as if he was a little girl going to her beloved grandmother's. But people who knew him glanced at him, nothing more. Harry simply, was just a little girl at heart. That's most of the reasons he got along a little better with Hermione than he did with Ron, although Ron had his own girlish tendencies.  
  
Harry skidded to a stop at the Fat Lady, who asked for the password. "Hinkle Sminkle!" he said giddily, his head falling back, laughing.  
  
"Nope," the Fat Lady said irritably. She then looked closer at him. "Aren't you that Harry Potter boy?" she asked, her eyebrow raised.  
  
"Yeah! Oh, I was just kidding about that password. Fighting Temptations!" he squealed, a loose wrist hanging at his side.  
  
"Correct..." she whispered, staring at him strangely. Her portrait swung forward, revealing a narrow walkway into which the common room expanded. Harry immediately saw Ron and Hermione in the best chairs by the fireplace. 

He took a seat next to them, and watched curiously as Ron brushed his hair. "I love your hair," Harry drooled, his chin resting on his hand. Real drool dribbled out of his wide, open mouth. 

"Yes, doesn't everybody?" Ron agreed arrogantly, running a purple brush through his shiny, red hair. 

"Only Malfoy doesn't. He says his hair is better," Harry tells Ron, who immediately freezes, his brush still in his hair. 

"Whose hair is better? His or mine?" he questions Harry, turning to him and looking at him in the eyes. He looks fearful, as if Harry is going to say Malfoy's is better. 

Harry is still ogling Ron's hair. "Yours," he whispers, drooling. There is a drool puddle starting to form on the common room floor. 

"I do wish you'd stop doing that!" Hermione said edgily. "

What?" Ron asked. He turned to look at Hermione and was once again brushing his hair, one long graceful stroke after another. Harry watched, his eyes following the brush as it slid its way smoothly down Ron's bright hair. 

"That!" she cried, pointing at both Harry and Ron. 

Harry snapped out of it and turned to Hermione. "The roof is on fire?" he cried, his hands flinging to the sides of his face. A big glob of drool slid out of his mouth and hit the floor with a ping! "The roof is on fire!" He jumped up and started running in circles, every now and then stopping to shake a person and scream at them: "The roof is on fire!" They in turn rolled their eyes and went back to their reading.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione yelled, chasing after Harry, pinning him on the wall with her arm. "The roof is not on fire. I said, 'That', and you went bonkers. Now sit down!" She led him back to his chair and pushed him down onto it hardly. 

"Now," she said calmly, as if nothing had happened, "I would like you," she pointed to Ron, "to please keep your brushing in private. Look what you've done to Harry." She pointed at the puddle. 

"Did he...wet himself?" Ron questioned disbelievingly. 

Hermione shook her head, and then nodded. "Well that is his drool, and that is where he wet himself." She pointed to Harry's pants, which had a huge wet stain going down the front, which was oddly shaped like Italy. 

Ron gaped at Harry. Harry stared at Ron. Harry reached out a hand to Ron's hair, saying, "Can I touch it?" 

Ron's hand batted Harry's away. "No, no, no! Never! But look what you've done to yourself, Harry!" Ron cried, pointing at Harry's pee. 

"It's not a problem, see...watch this!" Harry lifted his leg up and started to lick the stain that oddly resembled Italy. 

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said disgustedly, turning away. "Stop that!" 

But Harry continued. 

"Ron, please make him stop!"

"No!" Ron said, bemused at Harry. "Since when did he get this crazy?" 

"Since Voldemort's come back," she told Ron casually. "Now make him stop!" 

"Harry!" Ron shouted, pushing forcefully down on Harry's leg. "Stop it!" 

Harry stopped and looked at Ron. "Fine. But I get to touch your hair!" Ron's eyes widened and he started to shake his head. His mouth formed to say 'No,' but Hermione kicked him. "Alright. One pet." 

Harry eagerly lifted his hand up and brought it down on Ron's silky bright red hair. He lifted it again for another pet, but Ron said through gritted teeth, "No. I said one pet." 

Harry frowned, but then his face lit up as he asked Ron, "What kind of conditioner do you use?" 

Ron beamed; his hair was his favorite topic for conversation. "Well, I prefer Madam Geringham's Conditioner for Red-Headed Boys Who Want Beautiful Hair but mum thinks I don't need it since I already have beautiful hair," he said, with an exaggerated toss of his hair. "So now I use Lady Luzembourg's Conditioner for Red-Headed Boys Who Already Have Beautiful Hair and Want Even Silkier Hair." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Ah...silky and beautiful red hair, courtesy of Lady Luzembourg. Thank you, Lady Luzembourg!" A couple of nearby fourth-year girls giggled. Ron smiled.

"Can I borrow some?" Harry asked, eyeing Ron's beautiful hair. 

Ron frowned. "Of course not. It's for red-headed boys who already have beautiful hair and want even silkier hair," Ron stated. He eyed Harry's tangled, disheveled, pitch-black hair. "For you, I would try Madam Geringham's Conditioner for Black-Haired Boys Who Want Beautiful Hair. Look for it in Hogsmeade next time we go." 

Harry nodded and giggled staring at a pair of fifth-years nearby. "That's what Draco will do when I have hair like yours." 

"What will he do?" Hermione asked curiously, following his stare. It landed at a pair of boys, one whom was looking at the other boy's butt, and bopping his head. She snorted. "Right you are, Harry." 

"What?" Ron questioned in Harry's defense. "Harry has a nice butt, as I quoted just the other day." 

"You – said I had a nice butt?" Harry asked in awe. 

"Duh," Ron said simply, as if it were common sense. 

"You know, come to think of it, some girls the other day were saying that Draco's lucky, having a guy like you. They said that you had a 'tight' butt, and they'd like to get their hands on it," Hermione informed them, frowning. 

"You know, I do have a nice butt," said a grinning Harry. "And it comes in handy. You know why?" 

"Why?" Ron and Hermione asked in unison. 

"When I want walnuts cracked, I'll just stick one in between my butt cheeks, squeeze, and the shell breaks. Draco was absolutely amazed when I showed him," Harry reflected, blushing a bit. 

Ron groaned. Hermione said, "Ew." But nearby, Colin Creevey cried, "Cool!" 

Harry smiled. "Want to see?" 

"Yeah!" shouted Colin. Harry got up from his chair, smoothing his school vest out. "I have some business to attend to. And I think I should change," he said, gesturing to his school uniform. "The Gryffindor colors should've been lilac and pale yellow, I tell you." He left to climb the dormitory stairs, Colin in tote, ogling Harry's firm buttocks. 

Hermione shook his head. "And just to think, he was in awe over your hair. Now, he's showing his butt off as if he were some sort of trophy." 

"Well, it is. You know, Hermione, this just further proves my suspicions of you being a lesbian," Ron declared, staring at her strangely. 

"Yeah right! I like guys, not girls," Hermione cried out in defense. Then, without Ron noticing, she turned her head in Ginny's direction and winked.

* * *


	2. Soap Suds and Flies

Meanwhile in the dungeons as Harry cracked walnuts, Draco was entering the Slytherin Common Room, only to find Crabbe and Goyle engaged in a passionate embrace.   
  
"Get a room, you two!" Draco spat at them.   
  
"Okay," Goyle cried, getting up.   
  
"Sit down," Draco said harshly. "But quit it with the kissing – nobody wants to see two fat goons making out in their common room."   
  
"Okay," Crabbe said.   
  
Draco sat down in an armchair and observed the going-ons in the common room. There were two second-years break dancing in the middle of the floor, everyone around watching in amazement, as they had never seen anything quite like it before.   
  
"Stupid children – who do they think they are showing off Muggle talents like that? They're Slytherins, for Hufflepuff's sake! Sheesh! What is this place coming to?"   
  
"Okay," Goyle grunted.   
  
Draco turned away from the fools in the middle of the floor and focused his thoughts on Harry. Harry: messy-haired, cheese-eater, girly-acting, wide-eyed, Harry. Draco sighed, and closed his eyes.   
  
He heard slurping noises coming from the direction of Crabbe and Goyle. "Jesus Christ!" he shouted, not wanting to open his eyes.   
  
"Where?" somebody shouted, forcing Draco to open his eyes. He turned around and saw Pansy Parkinson running around, turning everybody over to see if they were Jesus.   
  
"Ay yi yi yi yi," Draco mumbled to himself, falling back into his seat. He rubbed his head. "Could she get any stupider?"   
  
"Okay," Crabbe grumbled. "I'm hungry."   
  
"Okay," Goyle muttered. "Me, too."   
  
"You guys are always hungry," Draco commented. "You seriously need to lose some weight. And I'm not talking casual pounds; I'm talking major, like 100 or so. Which reminds me, it's _supermodel time_!"   
  
Draco got up and smiled a really wide, toothy grin as Crabbe and Goyle jumped up. Crabbe reached into his purse and pulled out a camera as Goyle turned on some music.   
  
"_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts_…" blared throughout the common room, while Draco strutted down a pretend catwalk. Crabbe eagerly took pictures while Goyle clapped and grunted, "Draco! Draco! Draco!"   
  
The rest of the common room had mixed reactions: Most of the kids watched Draco, the rest rolled their eyes and turned back to what they were doing. The kids watching Draco pondered curiously after him, goggled at him, or drooled in his presence.   
  
Draco turned at the end of his 'catwalk' as "_I'm a model, ya know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk, yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk, yeah, I spank my little tush on the catwalk…" _drifted through his perfect little ears. And he spanked his little tush on the catwalk.   
  
He got applause for it, and some people fainted.   
  
"Love you, all of you!" he screamed, 'leaping' off his catwalk, and running to kiss everybody on their cheeks. And when he kisses everybody, he kisses_ everybody_. He even kissed some third-year's warty old toad, Giggles.   
  
"Well, all, I'm off to bed. I need my beauty sleep, you know," he said dramatically, emphasizing, 'beauty sleep'. And with a flick of his buttocks, he went off to the boys' dormitory.   
  
"Okay," Crabbe said, leaning in to kiss Goyle.

.....

The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of crinkling paper. "My tinkly-winkly's had a binkly pinkly!" he shouted, as he sat up suddenly. He pushed his eye pillows off his eyes and flung the bed curtains open.   
  
"Seamus! How many times have I told you to keep your ruddy hands out of my tissue paper!" Harry shouted, as he stood up putting on his pink, fluffy bunny slippers. He wrapped his robe around his nightshirt as Seamus looked up at him innocently.   
  
"It wasn't me, it was Neville," Seamus cried, trying to sound innocent.   
  
Harry looked up at Neville's bed, where Neville lay sleeping. "Oh, yeah, and he just happened to climb into his bed and fall asleep within TWO SECONDS?"   
  
Seamus glanced up at Neville and back to Harry. "Hehe...?" he chuckled, sounding very guilty.   
  
Harry threw his hands up in disgust. "Great! All because of you, I'm up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!" he cried, shaking his bum, revealing a gray tail.   
  
"Sorry!" said Seamus, throwing up his hands and backing away from the tissue paper. "What are you doing with tissue paper, anyway?" he asked curiously.   
  
"That's for me to know, and you to find out!" Harry shouted. Then he leaned into Seamus and whispered, "I wrap my feet in it with sand to totally exfoliate them. They are oh-so-lovely-and-soft when they come out!"   
  
Seamus looked surprised. "Hm, I didn't know that. Think any girls would like me with softer feet?" he asked hopefully.   
  
Harry shook his head. "I think not. You're positively horrifically ugly!" He turned and headed to his trunk, leaving Seamus with an ugly look of anger on his face. Seamus opened his mouth to say something, but just then a fly buzzed into his mouth, and he started to choke.   
  
"Oh, Seamus! You don't have to cry over the fact that your ugly Muggle father gave you that face! You have a face that only a mother could love. But me, I have a face everyone could love! Especially my butt. Wowza!" Harry gave his butt a little shake, and continued to search for his toiletries.  
  
"Harry!" Seamus choked out.   
  
"Come on, Seamus! You'll never be as beautiful as me! Maybe with a little pantyhose, concealer, and a fat tucker, but that's besides the point!" Harry said irritably, finally retrieving his plastic makeup bag. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take a beauty bath, since you oh-so-conveniently woke me up."   
  
"_But – Harry – I'm – choking_!" Seamus spat out, his hands around his throat.   
  
"So am I! I just REEK of body odor, and that's not very pretty for me!" Harry walked to the door, and added, "Toodles! I love ya!"  
  
"But -- !" sputtered Seamus, his face turning blue. He started hacking, coughing, smacking himself on the back, running into the wall, banging his head on the window…even putting his shoes on backwards, trying to make himself gag the fly up. Finally, he ran and dove into Ron's bed, poking and prodding Ron, trying to get him up.   
  
Unfortunately, Ron was a heavy sleeper, and occasionally hit people when they tried to wake him up, and he so unluckily punched Seamus right square in the throat.   
  
Choking even more, he made his final decision on how to get somebody to help him: by falling down the stairs.  
  
He stood at the top of the staircase, his face now bright purple, and he threw himself down, bumping his head, chest, and breaking his wrist on the way down.   
  
"Ahh!" he squealed, squeezing his eyes shut as he tumbled and bumbled down the wooden stairway.   
  
Luckily for him, some people started to hear him fall down, so they ran out of their dorms and stood with their eyes wide and jaws dropped. Finally he landed with a loud THUMP and he lay at the bottom, face down, still clutching his throat. He started coughing again, and Harry popped out of the bathroom.   
  
"Pull yourself together, mate!" yelled Harry in a voice that sounded oddly like Filch's. "Be quiet! I'm trying to create an atmosphere of peace!" Harry shouted, popping his head back in.   
  
Finally, Professor McGongall strode in, and looked at the scene of horror before her. "Mr. Finnegan, what have you done?"   
  
Seamus lifted his head weakly, and sputtered out, "Fly," before he fell unconscious.   
  
Professor McGongall took one look at the purple-faced boy and her mouth dropped open. She informed to the kids above, "There is nothing to see here, all of you. Please go back to your dormitories and get dressed." She then turned to Seamus, took out her wand, and muttered, "_Mobilus corpse_," and she and the body left the room, heading to the hospital.

.....

"La de da de da!" sang Harry in the shower as he scrubbed his belly. He giggled madly as he scrubbed. "This feels – hehe! – good," he said.   
  
A couple of other boys entered the showers and Harry noticed them staring at his butt. "I know, I love it too!" he told them while taking his washcloth and rubbing his butt as if it were a trophy and he was polishing it. "And just to think…it's all mine! All of it!" He laughed giddily as he now took the washcloth and inhaled it deeply, licking it all the while.   
  
Ron strolled in the showers, a towel around his waist. "I do wish that you would close your shower door while taking your shower, Harry," he said, wrinkling his nose a little.   
  
Harry turned and faced Ron and replied, "Why? And take away everyone's pleasure in seeing my beautiful, firm, squeezable, delicious, touchable, strokable, round, tasty bum? I don't think so!" He gestured to the four people sitting on the bench in front of his stall, all watching Harry with interest, delight, envy, and love. They sighed with pleasure as he gave his butt a little spank. "See?" Harry pointed out. "They love me!"   
  
Ron sighed and climbed into the shower stall next to Harry. "So did you hear about Seamus? Choked and fell down the dormitory stairs," Ron informed Harry.   
  
"Yeah, I know. It's just because I told him how good-looking I am compared to him. I could so totally get more guys than he can...don't ya think? And my talents..whoa! Double-time fun," said Harry, lathering some shampoo. "I do need to remember that shampoo that you told me about…"   
  
"I don't think so, Harry. He choked on a fly and fell down the stairs just to get somebody to help him out," Ron answered.   
  
"Really? Hm…I thought he was crying. Now come to think of it, it did sound like he was choking on something…hm."   
  
"You knew and didn't help him?"   
  
"Hey – he was playing with my tissue paper!" Harry giggled.   
  
"You could've helped him! Tissue paper??"   
  
"I was beautifying myself! He didn't need my help! He could've done it himself with those hot little muscular arms of his, though!" Harry poked at the soap on the shelf. "Ew...it's suddy!"  
  
"Really…"   
  
"Hm…" Harry thought. He turned to his audience and waved at them. They waved back eagerly. He turned around and rolled his washcloth into a microphone. He then turned back to them and said, "Oh my god, Ron, look at my butt. It's just so round, and out there. I mean, I look like one of those rap guys' boyfriends. They only talk to me because I can squeeze mustard for them with it. I'm just so…girly…"   
  
Then Harry jumped around, with him butt facing toward his audience and he started shaking it as he sang, "I like big butts and I cannot lie; you otha brothas can't deny; that when I walk in with itty bitty jeans and my round thing in yo' face, you get sprung!"   
  
With that, Harry, still shaking his butt (one of the 7 Wonders of the World), slipped on a huge water puddle that had formed in the shower. BAM! He hit the ground, sliding two feet on his butt. "Bloody hell, there goes the insurance on my butt," he mumbled, as he rubbed his sore rump.   
  
In the stall next to him, he heard panting. "What exactly are you doing, Ron?" Harry asked, watching his audience walk away disappointedly.   
  
"Shampooing," he replied smugly.   
  
"And panting?" Harry asked in disbelief. He got up and went next door, to where the shower door was open and five first-years were standing, watching in amazement as Ron shampooed his hair.   
  
"I thought you didn't believe in showering with the DOOR OPEN!" Harry spat out venomously, making the first-years flinch.   
  
"Relax, Harry, you're going to scare MY AUDIENCE AWAY!" Ron shouted, rinsing the shampoo out of his luxurious, flowing, beautiful, flaming-red hair.   
  
As soon as it had started, Harry started drooling. "I love your hair, the way it runs off the big hump of your head. And the way the shampoo just runs out of your luscious locks…I get goose bumps all over," he cooed, a big drop of drool flying to the floor at the speed of light.   
  
"Wait until he conditions it," a boy to Harry's left said. "Benji over here fainted last time he saw!" He pointed to a boy with frizzy hair, who waved at Harry. Harry smiled, and jerked his head back over at Ron.   
  
"Mmm..." he whispered, reaching a hand out to touch Ron's hair.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" Ron shouted, biting down on Harry's hand. "I told you over and over NOT TO TOUCH THE HAIR!" He started foaming at the mouth, growling menacingly at Harry.

"Sheesh, fine!" cried Harry, backing away, cradling his hand to his bare chest. "It's only hair..." he said to himself.   
  
"WHAT? Only HAIR?! I think NOT! It's MY HAIR! MY BEAUTIFUL, FIERY, TOMATO, SILKLY, LUXIORIOUS, SHINY HAIR! And it's only MINE to touch!" shouted Ron, foam flying everywhere.   
  
One kid who just walked in, crawled over to a foam pile and poked his finger at it. "Cool, mousse!" he cried, grabbing some and rubbing it his hair, shaping it into a mohawk.   
  
"I was joking!" said Harry in defense, crawling back to his shower stall, sucking on the purple marks that were from Ron's teeth.   
  
"Okay, so who wants to see me lather?" asked Ron to the first-years, smiling smugly as if nothing had happened that had made him turn into the Horrible Foam Monster.   
  
"I do! I do!" they cried, hands slapping the air.

......

When Draco woke up that morning, he saw that everyone except for Blaise Zabani, had gone to take their morning showers.  
  
Draco silently got up from his bed and made his way over to Crabbe's trunk, into the secret compartment that Crabbe hid his make-up in.  
  
"This'll teach Blaise so he doesn't make up anymore rumors that he's a better dancer than I," Draco whispered to himself, dumping the make-up upon Goyle's unmade bed.

......

He slowly walked toward Blaise's sleeping figure, and quietly got to work. "AH! WHAT IN SALAZAR SLYTHERIN'S RIGHT NAME HAPPENED TO MY FACE?" screamed Blaise from the bathroom mirror.  
  
Draco, in his shower stall, snickered softly into his hand.  
  
"Okay," Crabbe said from beside Draco, "what did you do?"  
  
"Move over, Goyle!" Draco hissed, bumping his hip into Goyle's tender gut. "There's barely any room in here!"  
  
"Okay," Goyle murmured, rubbing his jelly belly. "I just ate."  
  
"You always 'just eat', and we haven't had breakfast yet!" Draco responded, prodding his index finger into Goyle's tummy. "If you need to know, Crabbe, I only made Blaise prettier."   
  
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were all crammed into one shower stall, each taking their turn at scrubbing their bodies. They'd done this since first-year in Hogwarts, just because…well, um, nobody knows exactly why. They'd long gone past the funny looks and stares they used to get, since everyone's gotten used to it. But some first years still unfortunately crack their wits at them. Unluckily for them, they don't get found for a couple of weeks, usually jammed into one of the unused broom closets, bound, gagged, and bloodied.  
  
"Okay," Crabbe grunted, drinking some water pouring from the showerhead.   
  
"Ew, that's completely disgusting. Did you know that they use 'used' water in the pipes? Yes, they take it from the drains and such, and that's what we take our showers in. And to think, Mudbloods have used this water before us…" Draco said, shuddering. He pushed open the shower door and grabbed his towel. "Utterly disgusting," he remarked, still shivering.  
  
He looked around the bathroom and saw Blaise in the corner, clutching his face and crying. "What happened, Blaise?" he asked, cornering Blaise.  
  
Blaise looked up sadly, and the whole bathroom did a jump-back. Everyone turned away suddenly, and cracked up. Blaise's eyebrows were now all plucked out, with neat thin eyebrows in place of them, and his eyelashes were really long and curly. His lips were outlined at least three times bigger than they really were with black lip liner, and colored in with bright red lipstick. He had a huge beauty mole in between his nose and cheekbone, and his cheeks were painted violent purple.  
  
Even Draco jumped back in surprise, although he created this 'fashionable' look for Blaise. "My god, Blaise, what have you done to yourself? You look like a cross between Dame Edna and Violet Fou!"   
  
"Hey!" a boy shouted, ducking out from his shower stall. He put his hands on his hips. "You best not make fun of me, Draco!" The boy was Violet Fou, who had a face similar to Blaise's new face, only he actually made it up that way -- on purpose.  
  
"Looking good!" Draco called, waving at Violet. Violet smiled and went back to his shower.  
  
"I didn't do it! I woke up like this!" Blaise protested.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure. Someone did that to you," Draco said mockingly. "Don't lie, Blaise – your nose may start to grow!"  
  
Blaise started to cry again, and dropped his head back on his knees. "It won't come off!" he cried, shaking convulsively.  
  
"It won't … maybe I can help!" suggested Draco.  
  
"Really?" asked Blaise hopefully.  
  
"Nope, you're stuck with it kid," Draco smirked. He sniggered at the fact that he had put a charm on it so it won't come off no matter how hard Blaise scrubbed and secrubbed.   
  
He walked over to the sinks and spotted a kid wearing a really nice pair of underwear, lace-trimmed and black satin. "Hey, nice underwear!" Draco said.  
  
"Thanks," the kid blushed.  
  
"No, thank you!" Draco said, ripping off the boy's underwear. He pulled them on himself as the boy ran away, holding his face. "Oh…nice fit!" He started to check himself out in the mirror, whistling in approval. Draco then whipped out a comb and started brushing his hair, slicking it this way and that.   
  
"How should I wear my hair today?" he asked himself.   
  
"Different from usual," he answered himself.  
  
"Okay!" he cried, and he started to style his hair, gelling it here and there, and everywhere.  
  
"Lovely!" he commented.  
  
"Excellent!" he remarked.  
  
"You look sexy!" he complimented.  
  
And his hair looked exactly the same as it did everyday.   
  
"I think I look so handsome I want to kiss myself," he said mischievously. He then brought his mouth to the mirror and started kissing his reflection.  
  
Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle were at the door of the bathroom, standing at either side of it, with a towel in their hands.  
  
A boy named Affreux la Tomate walked into the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Crabbe ripped off his towel, while Goyle spun his towel up and whipped it at the boy's butt.  
  
"Ow!" the boy shouted, running away, trying really hard to cover his exposed rump.  
  
A boy named Huit Bouche strode in, wearing nothing. Crabbe slapped his butt.   
  
"Nice rump roast, you got there, Huit!" Goyle remarked, licking his lips.  
  
Huit turned around, thumbs up and smiling. "Merci!" he said, and walked over to Draco. He wolf-whistled and slapped Draco's bum.  
  
"Formidable gaz, Draco!" he smirked, licking his fingers.  
  
Draco shook his head, but smiled as he headed for his dorm.

.....


End file.
